


Collection #1

by heatdeath (aphelion)



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Drabble Collection, Inspired by Music, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 11:15:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1742765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphelion/pseuds/heatdeath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack presses his lips against the Doctor's sweat-damp hair, breathing in the salty scent of him. He rubs his hands up and down his back, his sides, his skinny arms until he's gone still. Jack only knows that he's breathing because he can feel it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Collection #1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fugitivus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fugitivus/gifts).



> Pick a fandom/pairing, put your playlist on shuffle, and write something for each song that comes up. This was written September 02, 2013.
> 
> Takes place between Journey's End and The End of Time.

**janelle monae - mushrooms & roses**  
 _the golden door of our emotions opens here_

The Doctor opens the door of the TARDIS into a seemingly endless stretch of hills and valleys drowning in a sea of flowers. A planetary garden. Jack's heard of them before, but he's never been to one. As a time agent it was never on the itinerary. 

"They're usually used to preserve species that otherwise would've died out a long time ago. When planets die things get left behind."

Jack recognizes a few species, flowers from Boeshane and flowers from earth. They find their way to a thicket of roses that stretches so far it could fill the whole bed of a lake. Jack gives the Doctor a sidelong glance, but if he's is experiencing anything in particular he doesn't show it. The Doctor shoves his hands in the pockets of his big coat when they turn back. Maybe he's being oversensitive, but Jack's glad when they do. Symbols tend to mean too much and too little for people like them. It's always personal.

In an act of boldness he finds the Doctor's wrist and coaxes one of his hands into his own, their knuckles brushing stems and petals all the way back to the TARDIS. 

 

 **dntel - waitingfortherest ii**  
\--

Jack's learned to live life without the comfort that comes from knowing the people he thinks about are watching the same sun when he watches it set from the rooftop, or sleeping under the same moon when he does, eventually, sleep. There are billions of suns out there. Even more moons.

The Doctor doesn't sleep under any moon. 

He must've shaken off that line of thinking lifetimes ago. Jack doesn't know why it's still hanging over him. Maybe it's just what he gets from staying in one place. For digging a hole in the ground and refusing to crawl out of it.

Things are going to change soon. No matter how long he spends resisting it, he's going to change too.

 

 **motoi sakuraba - dreams frozen in amber**  
\--

There's probably a better way to do this, but the Doctor doesn't go back. He doesn't visit twenty-first century Earth. He avoids it like it'll change something if he does. 

It still can't stop him from falling back on old, familiar habits. He spares a thought for Martha and Mickey, wonders if Martha is still working for UNIT or if they've both gone freelance. Spares a thought for Donna, living her completely ordinary life. Spares a thought for torchwood. For Jack, who he won't outlive, who he still can't force himself to face. Gets stuck on the bent his life has taken.

Jack doesn't need him to be there. 

He watches his hands on the TARDIS's console, on his way to a planet three-hundred thousand light years away from Earth, like where they've sent him is beyond his control. Thin fingers, lithe and deft. Quick enough that Jack couldn't catch him if he knew he should be trying. 

When the TARDIS lands he bounds out into the snow with a laugh, turns back to look at the empty, open doors and pulls them shut with a snap. Once they're locked he turns and runs. 

 

**bright eyes - ladder song**  
 _i know now how it's going to turn out_

The first time he kisses Jack, they've been drinking. It's an unannounced visit and the alcohol is unannounced too. They don't have anything to celebrate, but Jack convinces him with the kind of smile that says he's hiding something he won't share.

_"Might as well, right? There's always a holiday happening somewhere out there." he'd raised his glass like he was toasting those unnamed holidays. when he drank, the Doctor drank too._

_"Can't argue with that."_

The Doctor can't blame him since he isn't the one who leaned into his side and bumped his wet mouth against his lips. He can't even blame him for getting an arm around his waist and pulling him in, because he gets a leg over Jack's legs to help, pushing papers out of the way, neither of them flinching when they fall to the floor and scatter. 

He kisses Jack with his hands at his shoulders, fingers catching around his braces to tug at them, let them go slack, and pull them again. He's thought about what it might be like with Jack. He's had plenty of time to wonder. He's spent plenty of nighttimes alone.

Jack's knuckles dig into the long dip of his spine, his hands fisted in the Doctor's suit. The Doctor's hands find Jack's cheeks to feel his muscles move under his palms and his splayed fingers. He kisses like he's trying to forget the things he was thinking about and instead commit reality to memory. Like he could slow the passage of time if he reduced himself to this. Like — if he wanted it hard enough — the rest of the world could stop for him.

He's just drunk enough to entertain thoughts that useless. He's the only thing that's going to stop.

Jack's bed isn't uncomfortable, but it's stiff and unlived in. He knows Jack doesn't have an apartment so he doesn't have to guess why it hasn't seen much use. His bed hasn't seen much use either. The Doctor lets Jack undress him anyway. He lets Jack peel him out of his suit jacket, unfasten the knot of his tie below the hollow of his throat, unbutton his shirt and his trousers. He lets Jack get his hands on him and in him. He lets Jack get his mouth on his body and he finds his soft spots with his fingers in return. 

The Doctor lets Jack press him between the mattress and his body, chest to chest and belly to belly. He lets Jack make him a place he could come back to.

It's a single rung in one long ladder, but a home is a home even after it's gone.

 

**radical face - chewing bottles**  
 _my voice never made it in time_

They stumble in through the TARDIS doors laughing and gasping for breath, eyes and cheeks pink. It's easy to forget, but breathable atmosphere is not necessarily earth-like. There are so many reasons why that could be that the Doctor trips over his words explaining it like he's trying to get all of them out at once. Jack listens with his usual, total attention. Laughing gas. They're only lucky it wasn't fast acting.

Jack doesn't laugh when the Doctor trips over the stairs up to the console. He catches him before his face meets the grating, one hand around his waist. The Doctor turns his cheek against Jack's neck and laughs for him. 

He laughs until it sounds like he isn't laughing. It's loud in the hush of the TARDIS at rest. He can't catch his breath to say _I'm fine_ , and Jack doesn't say anything that might make the Doctor think he assumes otherwise. Well, as long as they keep not saying anything they can pretend whatever they want. 

Jack presses his lips against the Doctor's sweat-damp hair, breathing in the salty scent of him. He rubs his hands up and down his back, his sides, his skinny arms until he's gone still. Jack only knows that he's breathing because he can feel it.

It's not often, but sometimes the Doctor seems small.


End file.
